


Good Guy

by theleaveswant



Category: True Blood
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-02
Updated: 2010-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleaveswant/pseuds/theleaveswant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Good guys never win</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Guy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [superkappa](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=superkappa).



> spoilers for 3x12

_I can't help it if I'm a good guy._

If Alcide could eat his words . . . well, he wouldn't need ketchup for a start. Honest to a fault, and to his own lovesick detriment. Why couldn't he have played the hero she wanted, when he showed up at the bar? Swept her off her feet and plunged on through the sunset, chased the day around the world until vampires were no more than the distant memory of a bad dream. Why couldn't he have told the truth that really mattered, that he wanted to be near her more intensely than he could contain?

He just about punched Northman's fangs in, when the smug bastard took his arm outside the club. Compton was occupied, stowing the charred dictator in the back of his truck, and did not hear him whisper, "our business is concluded . . . on the condition that you maintain your silence. Do not return to Louisiana. Do not attempt to contact me. Do not, if you value your flea-ridden life, attempt to contact Sookie Stackhouse. Erase her from your memory if you can, though I doubt you will be able, but make no effort to speak to her again."

Alcide had nodded then, though his gorge rose, because he didn't need to ask what would happen if he disobeyed. Good guys did not hand over their entire pack to slaughter for the love of a woman. Fairy. Whatever.

He barely made it ten miles before pulling onto the shoulder and pounding on the dash with both hands. "FUCK," he bayed, and gripped the wheel until his tendons ached, then cranked it around and drove lead-footed back to Bon Temps.

Sookie's house was empty when he arrived, which was disappointing but not surprising. He followed her scent on foot from there, right up to her grandmother's headstone and then . . . the trail ended. Completely. It was like she'd vanished into thin air.

Alcide dropped to his knees and laughed, laughed until he sobbed, sobbed until he howled.

Good guys never win.


End file.
